New York Traffic
by lifechiaroscuro
Summary: Based on a Tumblr post in which someone was stood up on a date and was saved from humiliation by a stranger pretending to be their boyfriend. 'Steve doesn't say anything for a while, looking at James in surprise. He's never even heard of someone doing something like this. The brown hair and grey eyes and familiar Brooklyn accent is nothing like his boyfriend, and he likes it.


Based on this Tumblr post:

"imagine that you've been stood up by your douche of a boyfriend on date night and the waitress keeps asking if you're ready to order but you keep asking for more time hoping that he's just late. people are starting to look at you with those apologetic looks like they know and you start to feel worse and worse about the whole situation but as you decide to just get up and leave, this boy you've never seen sits down explaining loudly "sorry i'm so late, babe, traffic is crazy right now." and he quietly adds, "i'm Michael. just go with it, yeah? whoever didn't bother to show up is a jerk." and so you do go with it because he's being sweet and trying to save you (and plus he's the cutest thing you've ever seen) and as you're leaving the restaurant after the best non-planned date ever, he asks you out for real this time."

"imagine your otp."

* * *

A/N: Yes, I'm alive! Please accept this as an apology next chapter of _Web_ will be out soon.

Notes:  
Colloquially, Brooklyn college is indeed known as "the poor man's Harvard", given the cheap tuition and extremely low acceptance rate. Although, Harvard's acceptance rate is about 6%, and Brooklyn College's is about 32%.

As far as ballet companies go, NYCB is in fact very well-known.

For buckys-pillow and nineteensixteen-theears-thekids, who liked the idea of "1000 words of pure Stucky fluff."

* * *

Steve doesn't know why he'd agreed to go out with Brock. To be honest, he doesn't even know why Brock is an acquaintance - he's a bit of a jerk. But Brock can be persuasive, and Steve hadn't really known how to say "no". He hasn't known for a long time now, but if Brock doesn't show up today, this might be it.

For now he just can't bring himself to order or leave. The waitress has come around multiple times, and she's started giving him looks. And after a while, so had the patrons. They were sympathetic by the first half-hour, but by now they're simply pitying. He's about to give up and leave when someone speaks out loudly. "Hey, I'm so sorry I'm late. New York traffic, you know?" Steve swears he's never met this guy in his life, but the man seems genuinely regretful. The brunette sits easily in the chair across from Steve, and says in a quieter voice, "I'm James. Just go with it, yeah? Whoever didn't show up is a jerk."

Steve doesn't say anything for a while, looking at James in surprise. He's never even _heard_ of someone doing something like this, and the man is not only kind, but _hot._ The brown hair and grey eyes and familiar Brooklyn accent is nothing like Brock, and he likes it. "I'm Steve." he finally says. "Thanks."

"Trust me, it's no hardship." the other man tells him, and gives Steve a not-so-subtle once-over. "Call me Bucky, by the way. I just figured that if you were going to blow up about how much of a creep I am, you might as well not know the name I usually go by." Steve raises his eyebrows. "What, did you think I would rant about it to all of Brooklyn?" Bucky gives an easy smile. "Well, I hoped not."

The waitress interrupts them then, asking for their orders. Steve asks for chicken breast, and raises an eyebrow when Bucky orders meat lasagne. "Is this how you keep up that body?" he asks as the waitress leaves. The other man laughs and shakes his head. "No, I keep up this body by running and sparring. And the gym, of course."

"Sparring?"

"My friend Natalia is way too into martial arts. She's taught me a lot. I spar with her often, and so far she still wins seven times out of ten. That woman could choke a man to death with her thighs."

Steve's smile turns amused. "She ever gotten into a fight?"

Bucky laughs again. "I would say yes, but I'm not sure it counts when they end so fast."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "She sounds a bit frightening."

The brunette shrugs. "I've known her for years. Natalia isn't nearly as intimidating as she sounds." He grins. "Except when she wants to be."

"What does she do, then, when not beating jerks up?"

Bucky's smile turns softer. "She dances. Natalia's a beautiful ballet dancer; a member of the NYCB." Steve is impressed. The New York City Ballet is famous, vying with the American Ballet Theater for the title of 'best ballet company based in New York'. "She became a principal fairly recently, has danced lead once and major roles twice. She got injured in June - luckily, that was the beginning of her off-season, so she'll be nearly recovered when the fall season starts."

The blonde is surprised. "She'll have her pick of ballet schools, then, if that's what she decides to retire to." He pauses. "What about you?"

"Am I a ballet dancer?"

"Jerk."

Bucky just shakes his head, smiling. "Well, I got accepted for the fall semester of Brooklyn College."

Steve's shocked. "How the _hell_ did you get into _the poor man's Harvard_?"

"Excellent grades, extracurricular activities, leadership roles, and plenty of community service." He smirks. "And being former Special Forces didn't hurt my chances."

"I _thought_ you were military."

"75th Ranger Regiment, 1st Battalion, Charlie Company. Sergeant James Barnes." he says with a jaunty tilt to his head. "Did three tours - special forces ones are shorter - and got back about a year ago. You?" At Steve's surprised look, he explains, "I recognize the type."

"3rd Infantry Division, 2nd Brigade, 7th Regiment. Captain Steve Rogers. Got back nine months ago. I start at the School of Visual Arts this fall."

Bucky gives a cocky, two-fingered salute. "Captain."

"Sergeant." The blond's smile turns amused. "So, what are you planning on doing once you graduate?"

"I'm not sure. I was a sniper in the Rangers, and I've gotten offers for jobs as a trainer, so there's always that." His face takes on a pensive look. "I don't know what else I'd do. Become an EMT, maybe?" Bucky shakes his head. "What about you?"

"I'll probably major in graphic design. I sell some drawings and paintings in my spare time, though."

Curiosity sparks in Bucky's eyes. "Can I see one?"

Steve blushes slightly. "Um, I don't have anything I can show you, but I could draw something, I guess?" He doesn't know why he's volunteering to do this - it usually takes a while for him to be comfortable enough with a person to show them his work. Yet here he is, with a completed image already in his mind. A near-eidetic memory does have its perks.

"Go on. I'd like to see it." Steve takes out a notebook, occasionally looking up as he draws. The other man doesn't speak, seeming to know that silence is best for focus.

"Do you want to go out and get a drink with me after this?" the brunette eventually asks. "Hm." is Steve's response. He looks up a few seconds later to see Bucky smiling at him. "You're kind of cute when you get caught up in drawing, you know that? I asked if you wanted to go get a drink with me." "I'd like that. Just give me a moment."

It's less than a minute before Steve announces he's finished, but he gets shy about showing it to Bucky. "C'mon, let me see." The other man takes the notebook. "... Wow. This is… amazing. Do I actually look like this? I don't actually look like this." It's a drawing of the brunette casually leaning against the chair, one arm thrown over the back. "It's what I'm seeing." Steve responds with a shrug. "Wow." Bucky says again. "I'm gorgeous." "And modest, too." the blond quips, no longer so shy.

They leave the restaurant for a local bar - the brunette is skeptical, but Steve assures him he'll like it. He's right. They laugh over their drinks, telling stories of friends and fellow soldiers.

When Steve is about to leave, Bucky stops him. "Hey… You wanna do this again? A real date this time?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." Steve smiles, a bit shyly. "I'm free on Sunday. We could meet at Fort Greene Park, if you live nearby."

The other man shrugs. "Close enough. Is eleven okay?"

"Eleven's good. I'll see you then." Bucky turns to leave, but Steve catches his sleeve. "I just wanted to say thank you for saving me before." The brunette's smile takes on an amused lilt. "Really, I enjoyed it." "Well, thanks anyways." The blonde hesitates, then leans in for a short, sweet kiss. When they break apart, Bucky's smile is softer. "Goodbye, Steve."

Steve watches him go, thinking that _this_ relationship could be a very happy one.


End file.
